"We can no longer abide Sparrowhelm and his followers. They must be hunted down and brought to justice," the Duke said with a scowl. "But we cannot send in the Dragoons or the militias, they will just fade away from one, and the other they will pick apart a handful at a time.'

"Milord," his advisor coughed, "What of contacting the Adventurers Guild? They have certain... skills that could be useful."

"You are indeed correct, send a messenger to the Adventurers Guild, a contract is open to hunt down Arceneaux Sparrowhelm. While money is certainly an object in the matter, see about offering them something from the ducal arsenal, something flashy. Also, send a messenger to the Bounty Hunters Guild and the Mercenary guild, same message. Coin is limited, but offer them some swag.

Quote

Decree of his Lordship, Duke Walleran von AuthContract is offered against Arceneaux Sparrowhelm of Theisswald. For crimes against the crown, a bounty of 200 gold Sovereigns and (random magic item) is offered for Sparrowhelm dead or alive. Proof of death must be provided. Additional rewards are offered for the men who unlawfully follow Sparrowhelm

"I be sold on that job," the dwarf said, 'Nothing be like chopping a few trees, stomping a few necks, and bringing tha hammer o justice down on forest slag."

Gorlock the half-orc grunted his agreement to the terms of the contract. While the grime encrusted claws of his left hand conducted a vigorous search of his greasy, matted locks in search of an especially annoying tick, the equally filthy talons of his right hand laboriously scrawled a large, spidery X on the slip of parchment that had been placed before him.

''Youse pay me half now, and I take other half when we catch this Sparrowhelm, yar? Give me good swag, not worthless rubbish or Gorlock no give you Sparrowhelm. You savvy?''

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Gorlock twisted his misshapen visage into an expression that reflected both his righteous indignation and his ill-concealed vexation, upon hearing the man's cold, uncompromising words.

''You no trust word of Gorlock? I no liar who later run off with your money. I have honor. At least how about you give me some Buck Ogre rum,eh? Work better with good stuff in me.''

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

"200 sovereigns." Ringel sneered, "A paltry sum for such a task." He adjusted a brace of daggers that had been adjusted a minute ago and that he would adjust again a minute hence. "Those foolish enough to attempt such a feat as takin down SparrowHelm an his ilk for such have not the wisdom or prowess to do it." The southlander rubbed his unshaven chin, "Now for 200 sovereigns each...

Logged

"Pain can be your greatest ally, from pain you can learn to apply it, endure it and avoid it. Without pain there is no understanding of reality. If you never get hit with the things you strike out with every thing you know is pure fiction."

"This is not negotiable, if either of you wih to see so much as the flat side of a sovereign, you have to complete the job. No half now half later, no free rum, and Sparrowhelm is worth 200 alone. For each of his men you kill, we don't need any of them alive, the bounty is a generous 5 sovereigns."

Gorlock snarled with barely concealed irritation. While the other mercenary had been somewhat impudent in demanding so outrageous a sum for what struck him as a relatively minor and uncomplicated task, he found himself resenting the coolly arrogant and suspicious manner of the lord's herald.

''Why you no trust us? We mercenaries, not thieves. If you no trust us, how we trust you? How we know your lord pay us full amount after we catch sparrowhelm? ''

« Last Edit: November 26, 2009, 06:57:26 AM by Maggot »

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Ringel adjusted his blades and looked at the herald with a flat gaze. He turned and spat. His eyes snapped back to the herald in a way that bespoke of violence rapidly boiling beneath a placid exterior. Instead the southerner flashed a brilliant smile, that did not reach his eyes. "Speakin o trust. What proof do you need that we killed his men? Will an ear from each deader do?" Ringel was already calculating the profit to gained by taking both ears from a corpse and saying they came from two different men...

Logged

"Pain can be your greatest ally, from pain you can learn to apply it, endure it and avoid it. Without pain there is no understanding of reality. If you never get hit with the things you strike out with every thing you know is pure fiction."

Sparrowhelm's head is required, as for his men, either their heads or their right hand. If you bring the head, some might be worth more than others. I understand that one of the forest hooligans has had his way with one of the local craftsmen's wife. He might chip in a bit extra for his head. Don't ask me which one though, I do not know." The Herald said.

"Orcblood, is this your first attempt at working a contract? You get nothing, NOTHING, until you do the work. Only one person is going to get the bounty for Sparrowhelm, and you are most certainly not the only interested party. What was that you said earlier... savvy? No Sparrowhelm, no money.

Gorlock grunted sourly. As much as having to meekly submit to the pompous and supercilious little herald pained him, he was canny enough to realize that he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Unless he wanted to lose a welcome opportunity to reap a rich harvest of coin, he would have to place his trust in this strange concept called a contract. At least he could comfort himself with the notion that in the event that the herald refused to give him the stipulated amount upon the completion of the task, Gorlock could gain some satisfaction by chopping off his insolent tongue.

''Okay. I savvy. I give you Sparrowhelm's head, then you pay me. We start now?''

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

"Go after it Orcblood, bring me back Sparrowhelm and I'll put gold in you grubby hands."

Sparrowhelm and his band of brigands and bandits are known to lair somewhere in the recesses of the Dulhannon Forest. The forest is known to be home to scattered groups of primitive folk that live off of the forest and largely are left alone by the outside humans. There are also rumors of centaurs, dryads, and satyrs in the forest. It is not considered a magical wood, and elves have never been seen there reliably.

Ringel ran calloused fingers along the bridle of the blue roan that he had "appropriated". The horse was an ill tempered and strong willed mount that almost seemed a bit put off at his current state of affairs or perhaps his current owner. It didn't matter. The horse served Ringel's purposes and would be kept around so long as was necessary. Afterwards, well perishable skills must be kept honed to a sharp edge. Swinging up into the saddle, Ringel adjusted his daggers once more. "Shall we....?"

Logged

"Pain can be your greatest ally, from pain you can learn to apply it, endure it and avoid it. Without pain there is no understanding of reality. If you never get hit with the things you strike out with every thing you know is pure fiction."

Gorlock kept well away from his colleague's clearly agitated mount. He had always distrusted horses as well as those who rode them, having been hunted in his youth by young ''paladins'' eager to rid humanity of what they perceived as a dangerous monster. His side still bore the scar of a wound that had been inflicted a war horse that had tried to trample him back in the days when he had been forced to raid small villages for a living. But things had changed markedly since then and now he finally found himself in a position where he was the hunter. If the fates were kind, his colleague would be thrown from his saddle by his own steed, perhaps fatally so. That would leave the field clear for Gorlock to exclusively claim the bounty for returning with Sparrow helm's head.

In response to his companion's querry, he nodded his head and pointed a grimy claw at a large forest that begun a few miles away from the dirt road that they were currently travelling on.

''Yarr, we go now. Fighty plenty bandit in forest and get Sparrowhelm. I like forest. Like my home.''

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Gorlock beckoned towards an old, long disused road that led into the forest. The outlines of the dirt track was barely discernible, having long long since been encroached upon by the forest foliage.

''Come. We go forest now. Follow old road inside ''.

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Ringel held up a calloused finger, "Hold, half man." He trusted Gorlock about half as far as he could throw the half orc which was to say not far at all. "The road to Dulhannon is for us." There were men to be separated from their coin, by subterfuge, he thought of the stones in his pocket, force, his hands went again to his daggers, or steath, the scarf about his neck hid old scars and kept him from the wind but when pulled up would make it difficult to identify him as he liberated the citizenry of Dulhannon from their valuables. Then there were the wenches. Looking at Gorlock's less than handsome visage, Ringel supressed a shudder. Well, I suppose there will be more for me. "We can make better time, and pick up any supplies we need."

Logged

"Pain can be your greatest ally, from pain you can learn to apply it, endure it and avoid it. Without pain there is no understanding of reality. If you never get hit with the things you strike out with every thing you know is pure fiction."

Gorlock pondered over the other mercenary's proposition, his small eyes almost obscured by the massive frown creasing his forehead. He did not care to have the other mercenary direct the manner in which their little expedition was conducted, especially when he saw fit to defy Gorlock's own explicit instructions. Moreover, the man had irked him with his ill-concealed contempt for Gorlock's partial orc ancestry. If they entered the forest as Gorlock had ordered, he would almost certainly be able to trick his companion into pursuing a false trail that would lead him leagues away from their quarry.

But on the other hand, what the man said did make evident sense. Better that they should subsist on whatever provisions they could get from the town than spend hours futilely pursuing game in the forest. If he could purloin some rum as well as a pig from the residents, so much the better.

''Okay,we go town. You pay. Gorlock no got coin.''

« Last Edit: December 02, 2009, 12:45:41 AM by Maggot »

Logged

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson